Protesting Protests

I stood behind the police barrier as the people walked past me. Hundreds became thousands. There was about 50 of us penned in the fences, but there was a countless mob of ethnic Christians all around. Their brown faces twisted with hate and disgust. They were armed with megaphones and Biblias. Most of their ramblings were in a foreign language, but it was clearly translated into one word – “homophobia”.

Why was I inspired to go to this anti-gay marriage protest that was sponsored by Radio Vision Cristiana International and the Hispanic Clergy Organization? Because I wanted the haters to put faces to the people they are discriminating against. You can’t bring bus-loads full of people, who speak English as a second language, into the gay island of Manhattan to protest without hearing from us. I wanted to represent.

Since we were dealing with very religious activists, I wanted to bring a symbol with me that they would recognize. I brought a bright, yellow crucifix with a wooden heart attached to the middle, where Jesus usually hangs. It was given to me by a developmentally disabled student of mine years ago. To me, it means unconditional love. It means that everyone is equal in the eyes of love, no matter your religious beliefs. I stood silently, with my cross at my chest, and made sure to look everyone in the eye as they went past. The site of a faggot holding a cross drove them insane.

“God bless you”, said one lady without looking me in the eye.

“God bless you”, said an old man as he walked by with his eyes closed.

“It’s not about hate, it’s about love. Jesus LOVES you.” An angry teenager told us this, but her tone was full of anger. I thought perhaps it was due to her age, then a lady in her 40’s walked past and sneered, “God bless you”.  This happened too many times to count. The looks of confusion on the children’s faces was heartbreaking.

As the parade of hostile churchgoers continued, I noticed that the script they were saying said, “Jesus loves you” or “God bless you”, but the subtext in their hearts was “Fuck you fag” or “You’re sick, jerk”. What they were saying clearly did not match what they were feeling. Every time a Bible was shoved in my face, I couldn’t help but hear the real Jesus say, “Please don’t do that. Please don’t use my name in hate.” I can’t think of anything more sick than the sanctimonious actions of every mother who walked by carrying their daughter in their arms or pushing their son in a stroller while using Jesus as a tool of hate. Completely disgusting people.

Whenever minorities speak out against gay marriage, it really pushes my “fuck off” button. They know similar struggles, they are supposed to “get it”. Homophobia runs deep in religion and misunderstanding. It’s clear that blacks, or latinos in this case, are born “that way”, but gay people have to prove over and over again, that we are based in genetics too. Until everyone understands that, nothing will truly change.

On the upside, I got to meet Lt. Dan Choi (click his name to see his video on The Rachel Maddow Show), who was part of the under-attended counterprotest. He has become the current face of the ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’ policy. He is also originally from Orange County, Ca. and he told me about how his dad refuses to talk to him since he came out of the closet. We chatted for about 5 minutes. He is such a great guy.

After an hour of barfable latinos yelling at me, I went to get drunk on sangria at brunch with a bunch of gays. I have made a slide show full of the gross people I encountered while at the protest. Enjoy!

MJ’s Neverland Ranch Auction

The last 24 hours has been a rollercoaster of emotion. First, I found out that Michael Jackson is putting everything in his Neverland Ranch up for auction. Then today, I found out that he is canceling the auction because he hasn’t been able to sort through the items he wants to keep. I must get my hands on something from his collection!!

You can still view the lots for auction for the time being on Julien’s Auction’s website… for now. Just in case they disappear, I am posting some of the more, um, eye-catching pieces. I would give a nut for the mouse-boy below or the sculpture in the next photo, which is titled “Two Boys Catching Crabs”.

Ps… This slide is a life-sized sculpture… with life-sized kids. LIFE-SIZED.

Yes, thats a Bucking Bronco coin operated ride. The framed painting above is named, “Baiting Boys”. I’m not kidding. That’s what the website said. I swear.

The Prop 8 protest in NYC was super cruisey

Protesting Prop 8 is the new way to pick up guys. That’s what last night’s Prop 8 protest at the Mormon temple told me. Everyone made colorful signs and dressed in winter scarves with matching caps to meet outside in the cold air. As the group of an estimated 10,000 supporters of gay marriage marched down Broadway, passed Lincoln Center, and ended up in Columbus Circle we all huddled together tightly for warmth… and to touch butts on “accident”. We all chanted silly things that rhymed while everyone checked each other out. If you can’t flirt AND stand up for equal rights at the same time, then what kind of gay are you?

The organizers of the event told everyone online what type of signs to make. They warned to stay away from the polygamy argument, the warned to stay away from attacking religion, they warned to keep the message positive in order to unite and “take the higher road”. Originally, I was gonna make a sign that was very Latter Day Saints specific – “L.ITTLE D.UMB S.HITS” So, in an ironic twist on words in the Bible and the Book of Mormon, I made a double sided sign quietly mocking religious opponents of gay marriage.

For those religiously unaware, “Jesus wept” is the shortest verse in The Bible. I think Jesus would weep about the current state that this civil rights cause has reached. Plus, I always like using The Bible against Biblebeaters. Lord knows, I have a ton of knowledge on the subject since I went to Christian and Catholic Schools for most of my life. Clinging to stories from the past and not bothering to think for yourself certainly seems strange to me. Not nearly as strange as The Book of Mormon who was written by the “prophet” Joseph Smith. This guy took some shrooms and tripped out in a forest and wrote down everything that Jesus “told him”. The phrase “And it came to pass…” starts thousands of “verses” from the Book of Mormon (“And it came to pass this“ “And it came to pass that”), so naturally, I wanted to take a jab at them while trumpeting the message of gay marriage.

After we gathered at the entrance to Central Park, everyone sort of stood around and check out each other’s signs. I wish someone was there to give out prizes for best signs. I think I could have been a serious contender. My favorite was either the black lesbian that said “Should we sit on the back of the bus too?” or one young, hot gay that said “I didn’t ask him to “civil union” me!” We had brought noise makers to shake while we marched in the streets so we stood around and shook them.

My gaggle of gays and I got hungry, so we walked down 9th Avenue, the gayest street in Gayville, and ate at Vinyl, the gayest restaurant in Gayville. I didn’t want my sign anymore, so I discarded it on a pile of cardboard underneath an Ipod Nano ad. GAY! I would’ve felt bad for leaving it there, but the protest was a little underwhelming in energy. It’s great that there were 10,000 people there, and I LOVE IT, but I couldn’t help but think that there is much more passion in California over this right now.

On the way to the train, we stumbled on a liquor store that still had a Hillary for President sign in the window. Wow. How steadfast.

I’m going to go look at the Missed Connections on Craigslist now to see if anyone from the protest wants to hook up with me.

Oh and here’s one last shot that I love from the protest. It’s a keeper!

My Beard: A Photographic Essay

I grew my beard out for my pirate costume on Halloween. It’s gotten so much attention, particularly from gentlemen callers, that I am going to keep it for awhile. It’s scratchy and it feels weird when it’s soaking wet, but I’m going to play it out. Consider this The Great Beard Experiment of 2008.

Oh my god, a girl I work with just walked by and complimented my beard! Seriously. She wants my sack. I totally could’ve got her digits.

Here is my new Fall Face -

OH MY GOD! MY BEARD GREW INTO ANOTHER HEAD AND ATTACHED ITSELF ON MY SHOULDER!

Actually, that’s my friend Jonathan, who also has a beard, but my beard is bigger than his beard. He might have beard envy. I’m not sure. This beard business is a whole new thing for me. Viva la beard!

(You may have noticed that I was wearing a sticker that says “PREGNANT” in these photos. I found it on the street and wore it. I am in fact, NOT pregnant. Just in case you were concerned.)

Cleaning Women

Exactly eleven years ago, I was in a junior college student repertory production of Studs Terkel’s “Working”. It’s a very cheesy musical about the every day working class (Joe the Plumber, so to speak). It’s got a very big 70’s vibe. The best number in the show was “Cleaning Women”. It was a show stopper. I wasn’t in that number, but I memorized the choreography so that I could do it backstage with my friends who actually got to perform. My role was a monologue about being an electrician. It was short and sweet and didn’t require dancing or singing.

One of the girls in the “Cleaning Women” song was Genevieve. She was a short, fat, black lesbian. Halfway through the run of the show, she quit. I forget why. I only remember her crying and leaving. We never saw her again. This left a hole in the dance number. Since I knew the choreography, the director let me fill Genevieve’s shoes… and sweatpants. It was a real ‘Showgirls’ moment and I was able to shine. We were all so excited that I got to be in the routine that we took a group photo.

This morning, I found this photo tagged on my Facebook. I immediately UNtagged it because Facebook is too public. Then, I immediately wrote this blog entry and posted the photo.

In case you can’t tell, the large Samoan lady next to me is a dude. He is the faggiest fag I ever met and was a good, good friend of mine at the time. We used to paint our fingernails with polish he kept in a lavender caboodle. The guy had sooo much nail polish!!!

If you’re curious as to what the song sounds like, you can see Patti LaBelle sing it HERE.

The Yellow Chair Photos

Photog Hog

I’m rapidly developing an interest in photography. I think I have good instincts. Thought I would let you know. In case you’re wondering why the first pic is so awesome, that’s Trump: The Game with a view of NYC through the car window. Eric purchased the game at a thrift store in The Poconos. Hysterical. Yay me.